


Going Bananas

by hexagonad (ideserveyou)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Bananas, Fluff and Angst, Gorillas, Other, Science, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/hexagonad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bollo gets a Valentine. Naboo gets the hump. Howard gets drunk. Vince gets a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Bananas

‘Here we go again,’ Howard sighs, as Vince’s excited footsteps clatter up the stairs to the flat.

Naboo rolls his eyes. ‘Just don’t encourage him, OK? Let’s just stay calm, get this over with for another year.’

Clutching the morning’s mail, Vince bounds through the door and strikes a dramatic pose. ‘Ta-daa! Post time! Happy Valentine’s Day, Vince’ – he throws a glittery envelope onto the table in front of his empty chair – ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Vince – Happy Valentine’s Day, Vince – ah. Happy Valentine’s Day Howard, from Howard.’

He chucks a beige envelope at Howard, narrowly missing his breakfast toast.

Howard blushes. Naboo shakes his head. ‘You could at least make the effort an’ disguise your handwriting, you numpty.’

Vince chatters on. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Vince – Happy Valentine’s Day, Vince – Happy Valentine’s Day, Naboo, an’ we all know who that’s from’ – he flips a shiny pink hexagonal envelope across the table – ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Vince – Vince – Vince – Oh. Hey, that’s a new one. Happy Valentine’s Day, Bollo.’

‘That can’t be right,’ Naboo says sharply, ‘give it ’ere.’

Bollo hangs on to it stubbornly. ‘No way, it say Bollo on envelope.’

‘Open it then,’ Vince urges him, hopping from one foot to the other and grinning like a loon.

Bollo rips the envelope apart and takes out a big glittery card with a big, red...

‘Banjo?’ Naboo’s black brows meet in a frown. ‘What the fuck?’

The gorilla grins from ear to ear. ‘Banjo, yeah. We goin’ to bluegrass gig tonight. She send Bollo ticket, look.’

Vince peers over Bollo’s shoulder, and reads aloud. ‘ “To my dear Bollo, you are very special. I really appreciate all you do for me. MJ.” Way to go, monkey man.’ He claps Bollo on the shoulder. ‘That’s genius. Well, if you like that sort of thing.’

‘No way.’ Naboo folds his arms, and glares at Bollo. ‘You know I’m allergic to bluegrass.’

Bollo shrugs. ‘You not invited. And Bollo not play it at home, so what is problem?’ He turns to Vince. ‘You help me sort my hair for big night out?’

‘Course I will.’ Vince puts down his pile of cards. ‘Come on, let’s get started, I can help sort out your look too if you want...’

They skip out of the kitchen hand-in-hand, chattering about hair products and back-combing.

Naboo is still frowning into his coffee.

‘So...’ Howard says, to break the silence, ‘seeing as Bollo’s going out tonight, are you going to take Tony Harrison up on his offer this year then?’

‘NO, I FUCKIN’ WELL AM NOT!’ Naboo slams his mug down on the table, splattering coffee dregs everywhere. He pushes his chair back and glares at Howard. ‘Clean this lot up, an’ get to work.’

He storms out in a swirl of robes and bad temper, calling out ‘Oi, Bollo, I want a word...’

Howard sighs again, and fetches a J-cloth.

His own card goes in the bin. Well, at least that’s that over for another year.

There are raised voices coming from Naboo’s room.

‘I’m tellin’ ya, no way. You can’t go out tonight. I need supplies. An’ that cauldron’s gonna need stirrin’ every hour through the night, I can’t do that on my own.’

‘Do it tomorrow. What difference one day make?’

‘It’s not your place to question shaman business.’

‘It not your place to tell Bollo he cannot go out. It say in Bollo’s contract – ’

‘Fuck the contract.’

‘It say, familiar have right to social life and right to seek mate. Bollo exercise his right.’

‘Over my dead body.’

‘Bollo sincerely hope it no come to that.’

Angry gorilla footsteps stomp out of the bedroom; the door slams.

Vince’s door opens and shuts.

Howard sighs yet again. Looks like he’ll be keeping shop on his own today.

...

It’s a quiet day, with few customers. Naboo doesn’t appear in the kitchen at lunchtime; Vince and Bollo wander in as Howard is finishing his sandwich.

‘Alright Howard?’ Vince is looking very pleased with himself; he and Bollo are sporting matching towel turbans and trailing a great cloud of fruit-scented shampoo.

‘What’s up with Naboo?’ Howard asks.

Bollo shrugs as he peels a banana. ‘He get over it. Bollo got more important things to worry about today.’

‘Too right,’ Vince agrees. ‘We’ve still got a lot of work to do on your layers. And I’ve got to fix my own outfit for tonight too, I’m going clubbing with four girls at once, how cool is that?’

‘So I’ll just mind the shop on my own all afternoon too, shall I?’ Howard bangs the kettle down on the stove-top.

Vince just flashes him a brilliant smile. ‘Cheers, Howard. You’re a real mate.’

And off they go again.

Howard makes coffee, taking his time; treating himself to a second cup. He should be pleased for them. He’s man of the world enough not to mind that his friends will be on dates tonight and he won’t...

A thought strikes him. He pours coffee into a second mug, roots out a packet of Jaffa Cakes from the back of the cupboard, and goes to knock on Naboo’s door.

But all he gets for his trouble is a muffled ‘Fuck off,’ so he leaves them outside the door and goes slowly back to work.

The afternoon is even slower than the morning. Vince makes a token appearance at half past three, his hair dry now and sleek, elaborately feathered and looking all shiny and soft. Howard has a sudden, irrational impulse to run his fingers through it, but restricts himself to saying ‘Your hair looks good.’

He’s rewarded with another of those dazzling smiles as Vince fiddles absently with the cash register. ‘Cheers Howard. Hey, I gotta go in a minute.’

‘It’s not even four yet,’ Howard protests.

‘Yeah, but I gotta get dressed an’ everything, I’m gonna be partyin’ all night an’ I might get lucky...’

Howard thinks about asking – begging – to come along. Surely even Vince can’t handle four girls at once? But Howard’s pride won’t let him, and Vince is too self-absorbed ever to think of offering. Or maybe he thinks Howard will cramp his style.

Howard grits his teeth. ‘Fine, then. It’s not as though we’re busy.’

‘Thanks.’ Vince skips out of the door, his gorgeous hair bouncing infuriatingly.

The rest of the afternoon drags. Howard makes himself do a complete refurbishment of Stationery Village, right down to the re-planting of the Blu-Tack Garden, but even that fiddly and exacting task can’t entirely distract him.

When he goes upstairs after closing time, the flat is a whirl of clothes – ‘This?’ ‘Nah.’ ‘This?’ ‘Better.’ ‘Yeah, I think you’re right, we’ve cracked it’ – and the clouds of hairspray make Howard cough.

It’s almost a relief when Vince and Bollo pronounce each other ready to go. They clatter downstairs; the street door slams.

Howard gets himself a beer and slumps on the sofa.

It seems a long evening, even though he goes to bed early, so he won’t have to see either of them when (if?) they get home.

There is still a cold cup of coffee outside Naboo’s door next morning.

...

The rest of February is hard work. Vince is out till all hours and not much use in the shop even when he does manage to drag himself out of bed before lunchtime; Naboo is turning into a nightmare boss, snapping at Howard for not getting everything done, ordering Bollo to do more and more ludicrously trivial tasks, finding fault with pretty much anything his familiar does.

But despite being banished to the broom cupboard to sleep, Bollo carries on grinning to himself, and meeting his mystery date every Thursday night. Naboo will frown and mutter but Bollo just looks him in the eye and says ‘Contract,’ in a voice that brooks no argument.

On Thursday evenings Naboo will mostly just shut himself in his room. And if he doesn’t, Howard soon learns to keep a low profile.

After a few weeks, Vince stops going out so much. Sometimes he’s around on a Thursday evening. One Thursday when Naboo is in a particularly foul mood, Howard suggests the pub. The following Thursday, Vince suggests the pub. It soon becomes a habit, and Howard starts to look forward to Thursdays instead of dreading them.

One Thursday, after daringly sinking a second pint, he asks about Vince’s Valentine dates, why Vince isn’t seeing them any more.

Vince shrugs. ‘Didn’t work out.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Nah, don’t be. I’m not. They weren’t exactly my type. An’ I like goin’ down the pub. Don’t you?’

He flashes Howard a particularly fabulous smile.

Howard buries his nose in his glass and mumbles some response.

...

Spring springs; the sun and the daffodils are bright and cheerful, although Naboo remains under a dark cloud.

On the spring Bank Holiday Bollo is up bright and early. When Howard wanders blearily into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, the gorilla is already tucking into his third or fourth banana and chatting to Vince.

‘It special day, Bollo take day off. Bollo and Mary Jane go to Kew Gardens to look at bananas.’

‘Is she interested in bananas?’ Vince asks. ‘Or did you choose this trip?’

‘She very interested. Like Bollo. Did you know, banana tree not really tree at all, it giant herb?’

‘Genius.’ Vince grins. ‘An’ the black bits, are they tarantulas’ eggs?’

‘No. They seeds. They...’

‘Shut the fuck up about fuckin’ bananas, Bollo ya ballbag, I don’t wanna know.’ Naboo strides through the kitchen without looking at any of them, and flings himself down on the sofa.

‘OK, OK, you keep turban on, Bollo go now.’ Bollo winks at Howard and Vince, his blue eyes twinkling wickedly. ‘Wish Bollo luck. Bollo going to invite Mary Jane home for tea to meet Bollo’s friends. And Bollo’s shaman master.’

The door has closed behind him before Naboo can say anything.

The little shaman sits rigidly upright, glaring at nothing.

Howard and Vince catch each other’s eye, and go and sit one on either side of him.

‘You can’t stop him, you know,’ Vince says.

Howard nods. ‘He’s only doing what comes naturally.’

‘An’ it’s good to see him happy.’ Vince puts a hand on Naboo’s shoulder.

Naboo shakes him off. ‘Get off me. It’s nuffink to do with you.’

‘It is, though.’ Vince’s blue eyes are very earnest. Howard hasn’t seen Vince this serious about anything since Top Shop threatened to close down their local branch. ‘It is to do with us. We have to live with – with you actin’ like a total git. You made Howard scrub the shop floor three times yesterday an’ it weren’t even dirty to start with. Poor sod was exhausted an’ wet an’ you never even said he’d done a good job.’

Howard hadn’t realised Vince had even noticed. He certainly hadn’t offered to help.

Naboo is still frowning, lips shut in a tight line.

‘Come on, Naboolio, what’s your problem?’ Howard asks.

‘He’s my fuckin’ familiar, that’s what’s my problem,’ Naboo grits through clenched teeth.

‘He hasn’t stopped bein’ that, just because he’s got a girlfriend.’ Vince looks puzzled. ‘He’s still under contract to you. I know what it says, he showed me. He’s entitled –’

‘I know what he’s entitled to,’ Naboo snarls. ‘And I’m givin’ it to him.’

‘So what is your problem? Bollo seems well able to handle it.’

‘Shut up, Vince.’

Howard can hear the fear behind Naboo’s furious tone. He knows that fear himself, all too well, the voice in your head telling you that you’re going to end up alone and lonely...

‘You’re afraid he’ll leave you,’ Howard says.

Vince’s blue eyes widen in sudden understanding. He puts a hand on Naboo’s shoulder again, and this time he’s not shaken off. Naboo sags against the sofa cushions and buries his face in his hands.

‘You’ve bin tryin’ to make it happen.’ Vince’s voice is soft and sad. ‘You’ve been hard on him, to try an’ make him end it, because the waitin’ for it is worse...’

Naboo’s shoulders shake.

‘It doesn’t have to be the end,’ Howard says. ‘Maybe it’s a new start.’

Vince passes Naboo the box of tissues from the coffee table. ‘Listen, this is gonna happen whether you want it to or not.’

‘I don’t.’ Naboo blows his nose. He looks utterly woebegone.

‘I don’t think he’ll leave you.’ Howard does his best to sound convincing.

Naboo doesn’t look even slightly convinced. ‘Maybe not, but what if – what if she wants to move in? She won’t wanna sleep in the broom cupboard, an’ I’m fuckin’ well not going to.’

Vince grins. ‘No problem. She can have Howard’s room.’

‘Oh, and I get the cupboard, do I?’ Howard snaps.

‘Not unless you want it.’ Vince has that earnest look on his face again. ‘Listen, Howard, lemme finish, OK? She can have your room, an’ we can move your bed into mine, there’s plenty of space in there.’

‘Well, I suppose...’ Howard thinks about this. There are ramifications, practical points to consider, but on the whole it’s actually not a bad idea. Maybe this whole episode will turn out to be worth all those extra hours washing the floor... 

Naboo is still frowning. ‘An’ what if they decide to – to breed? I can’t have little monkeys runnin’ all over the shop.’

Howard laughs and laughs at that. ‘Have you forgotten, Naboo, you’ve got two trained zookeepers on hand twenty-four hours a day? Baby gorillas, no problem, sir. We can handle them. We’ve got all the skills we need.’

‘Suppose so.’ Naboo starts to look just a little happier.

‘I know what you need.’ Vince jumps to his feet. ‘Come on, let’s go down the pub, it’ll all look better after a flirtini or two.’

...

‘Bin alone all my life,’ Naboo slurs, lolling back in his chair and staring up at the brewery logos on the umbrella over their beer-garden table. ‘Stuck on an alien planet, alone and lonely, till Bollo came along.’

‘Bit like Howard and me.’ Vince twirls a cocktail umbrella between his fingers, first one way, and then the other. ‘Howard was all lonely, then he met me an’ wasn’t any more.’

‘Best fing that ever happened to me,’ Naboo continues, as though Vince hadn’t spoken. ‘Dunno what I’d’ve done...’

Howard takes a careful swig of his beer. ‘But you complain about him all the time.’

‘So?’ Naboo shrugs. ‘Vince complains about you all the time. And you complain about him.’

‘That’s... completely different,’ Howard says hastily. ‘Another thing altogether. Not the same at all.’

‘You should tell him.’ Once again, Vince’s face is all sincerity. ‘Tell him that just because you say he’s rubbish sometimes, don’t mean you think he actually is. Ain’t that right, Howard?’

‘I, erm, yes, absolutely.’ Howard takes another mouthful of his drink and inspects the glass carefully before setting it down again. ‘Of course.’

Naboo sighs. ‘You’re probably right. If I had, maybe he wouldn’t’ve started with this nonsense in the first place. Bit late now.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Vince leans on both elbows on the table and turns his gaze full on Naboo. ‘You should tell him anyway. Whether he comes back tonight on his own or not. Otherwise how’s he ever gonna know?’

Was it Howard’s imagination, or did Vince glance across at him just then? Is Vince trying to tell him something, or something? Or is it simply the three (or was it four) beers he’s just had?

Howard shakes his head to clear, it, reaches for one of the two glasses on the table, and knocks them both over.

Vince has laid his hand over Naboo’s, and Naboo is nodding in agreement. They both look up as Howard’s glass falls over.

‘Time to go home, big man.’ Vince grins. ‘C’m’on Howard, it’s half past four already, Bollo said they’d be back at five.’

‘Don’t embarrass me,’ Naboo mutters.

‘Have we ever?’ Howard asks, very seriously. The effect is ruined by a sudden hiccup.

Naboo grins as he hauls Howard to his rather unsteady feet. ‘You want a list?’

Vince takes Howard’s other arm. ‘Naboo, haven’t you got a sobering-up spell?’

Naboo’s grin grows wider. ‘Yeah, but I’m too pissed to remember what it is.’

Howard’s last thought as he falls over is that he can’t remember when he last saw Naboo smile.

...

At five o’clock precisely, a taxi pulls up in the street outside the flat. Vince is bobbing excitedly around the living room and fiddling with his already perfect hair; Howard (with a bag of frozen peas forming a makeshift ice pack on his aching head) has been banned from getting out of the armchair, and is already on his second Resolve; Naboo is perched nervously on the edge of the sofa.

Vince stands on tiptoe to peer out of the window. ‘I can see them – he’s holdin’ the door open for her – oooh, killer heels.’

‘A gorilla in high heels?’ Howard raises an eyebrow.

‘Who said anythin’ about her bein’ a gorilla? She’s all woman. Gorgeous arse, fabulous boobs, an’ she’s blonde an’ all. Nice one, Mister Bollo. Nice one.’

The shop bell tinkles.

Gorilla feet and killer heels come up the stairs together.

Naboo swallows hard, adjusts his turban and gets to his feet.

Vince opens the door.

A slim blonde with glasses and a big smile comes through it, with Bollo shuffling behind looking proud and slightly embarrassed.

‘Hello, I’m Vince.’ Vince holds out a hand. ‘Nice to meet you at last, we were beginnin’ to wonder if you really existed. That’s my colleague Howard over there, he’s, um, not feelin’ a hundred percent... No, Howard, don’t get up... an’ this is Naboo.’

The tiny shaman mumbles something and shakes hands. He looks smaller and paler than ever.

‘An’ dis Mary Jane,’ Bollo grunts, staring expressionlessly into the distance.

There is an uncomfortable silence.

‘Why don’t you all sit down an’ I’ll make some tea?’ Vince suggests. ‘Unless you want something stronger? To, you know, celebrate?’

Bollo is still looking blankly at the wall.

‘Do I gather congratulations are in order?’ Howard asks.

‘Well, yes.’ Mary Jane’s elegant brows meet in a puzzled frown. ‘But how do you know? Bollo said he hadn’t told you...’

Bollo’s shoulders shake. It takes a moment for Howard to realise that the gorilla is chortling to himself.

‘What’s goin’ on, Bollo ya ballbag?’ Naboo’s voice is brittle with tension.

Bollo just goes on giggling helplessly.

‘Sorry about this.’ Vince steers their visitor to the sofa. ‘He’s a bit overexcited.’

She smiles. ‘I know. We’ve had a very eventful afternoon. Our joint presentation was a tremendous success.’

‘Presentation?’ Howard leans forward in his armchair, wincing as the sudden movement sends the bag of peas slithering down the back of his neck.

‘Presentation.’ Mary Jane produces a glossy report from her handbag and hands it to him.

‘What’s it say, Howard?’ Vince leans over, close enough for Howard to catch the fragrance of hairspray and fruit bodywash.

Howard clears his throat, and reads aloud. ‘New advances in the genetics of banana flavour. By Professor M.J. Levenson.’

‘ You’re a professor? How cool is that!’ Vince beams at her. ‘What’re you a professor of, exactly?’

‘I study banana genes.’

‘Wicked! I once made a pair of bamboo drainpipes when we were livin’ on a desert island.’

Howard sighs. But Mary Jane doesn’t look at Vince as though he’s a complete idiot, she just seems to find his remark funny.

‘Very good, I’ll have to remember that one... I work on the genes that make bananas taste like, well, like bananas. So growers can improve the flavour.’ She turns to Naboo, who is sitting beside her with his face still screwed up in a thunderous frown. ‘Your Bollo’s been helping me with my research for months. Ever since I bumped into him at a bluegrass concert and we got chatting. He’s very talented, you know.’

Bollo smirks. Naboo mumbles something inaudible.

‘No, really, he is,’ she insists. ‘Much more discerning than any human taster. And the fact that he can talk – well, it’s saved me hours of time. I can’t thank you enough for allowing him to participate, it’s been a pleasure to work with him. He’s remarkable.’

‘Hey, Bollo,’ Vince whispers, ‘how much did you pay her to say this?’

But the gorilla is looking at Naboo with deep affection and doesn’t reply.

‘I know,’ Naboo says slowly, staring into space. ‘I know he’s amazing. Guess I don’t always ’preciate him...’

A silence falls.

‘Um, tea?’ Howard suggests.

Vince pushes Howard back down as he tries to get up from the armchair. ‘You stay there, big man, you’ve done enough falling over for one day.’ He smiles and squeezes Howard’s shoulder; Howard’s insides lurch, not just from the beers.

‘Who’s for tea?’ Vince skips into the kitchen. ‘Ooo, look, and we’ve got cake too. Banana bread, would you believe...’

The professor, Bollo and Naboo are talking quietly, now sitting side by side on the sofa with Naboo in the middle. Howard can’t hear what they’re saying, and anyway he’d rather watch Vince’s hair catching the light, Vince’s slim hands cutting cake and brewing tea, Vince’s delightful rear view whenever he turns his back...

...

Later – much later – after the Prof stayed for a takeaway and a celebratory bottle of something cheap, cheerful and bubbly from the offie, and went home in a taxi with a promise to call again, soon – after Naboo and Bollo saw her off, waving from the shop doorstep, then turned to each other and hugged, hard – and after Howard and Vince pretended they hadn’t seen that, and Naboo and Bollo moved Bollo’s beanbags out of the broom cupboard and back into Naboo’s room – Howard and Vince are sprawled on the sofa, too full of curry and bubbles to be bothered moving yet.

‘Hey Howard,’ Vince says suddenly, breaking into Howard’s comfy doze.

‘What?’

‘I’ve bin thinking.’

‘Bad idea.’ Howard yawns lazily. ‘You know you’re no good at it. I’m the brains of this double act, yes, sir... Well, don’t just sit there, let’s have this great thought for what it’s worth.’

‘Howard.’ Vince is biting his lower lip and looking very earnest again. ‘You know what I said earlier?’

‘About making bamboo drainpipes?’

Vince screws the empty nan bread bag into a ball and throws it half-heartedly at Howard, missing him by a mile. ‘No. Earlier than that. About the Prof moving into the flat.’

‘She’s not going to. She never was going to. Bollo was just making a point, in his gorilla way.’

‘I know, yeah, but I was thinking... what if we moved your bed into my room anyway? It’d be...’

‘What would it be?’ Rarely has Howard been so totally, desperately interested in what Vince has to say.

‘Friendlier,’ Vince says, his brow furrowed with the effort of explaining himself. ‘You know, like back in the hut at the zoo, when we used to do night shifts. It’s nice hearin’ someone else breathin’ an’ that, when I wake up in the dark. I’ve missed it.’

Howard sits up straight, and looks at Vince. And looks some more. And more. Vince has gone a bit pink, but he’s shuffling along the sofa towards Howard, and there’s a shy smile on his face.

‘I’ve missed it too,’ Howard admits.

Vince shuffles up some more, so close he’s sitting on the same cushion. Howard’s arm is round him before Howard’s brain has time to think about it.

‘Is that a yes, then?’ Vince asks, snuggling into Howard’s shoulder, where he fits perfectly, as Howard has always known he would.

‘I think it is a yes, yes.’

Vince makes a contented little noise and falls silent, his breathing soft and even. Howard is dozing off again when Vince pokes him in the ribs. ‘Hey, don’t nod off on me, we’ve got a bed to move.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Howard says. ‘About that.’

Vince tenses. ‘You haven’t had second thoughts?’

Howard runs his fingers through Vince’s hair. ‘Don’t worry, little man. All I was thinking was, do we really need to bother moving my bed? I reckon we’d both fit in yours.’

Vince jumps to his feet, eyes sparkling. ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?’


End file.
